My rescue
by Rac4hel414
Summary: Gabriella is shy, quiet, and brilliant. She avoids attracting attention to herself, but when Troy Bolton finds her crying at the park one night, he promises to find out what's wrong, and falls in love in the process. Co-authored with glaceauxfraises. TxG
1. Prologue

**A/N: This story is co-written with glaceauxfraises.**

**This is the full summary: Gabriella, throughout her entire life, has been labelled a a geek and an introvert - seemingly a nobody. But, when the popular jock, Troy Bolton, finds her crying while reading in the park, he finally notices her. In his eyes, for the first time, he truly sees a girl as beautiful and sets out to find out just what's wrong with her.**

**So...yeah. Enjoy.

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Prologue

Gabriella tapped her pen against her desk in sync with the second hand which seemed to be getting slower and slower. She lowered her head back to her book and continued reading, basking in the silence which filled the room. There were two minutes left of school and she was sitting in Ms Darbus' homeroom. Usually, Darbus would be twittering on about the theatre but everyone had been too noisy – giving both Ms Darbus and Gabriella headaches – and she had declared silence.

The lack of conversation from the class and announcements from Ms Darbus had given Gabriella the opportunity to continue reading her favourite book _The Rescue _by her favourite author, Nicholas Sparks. The book was crumpled and torn because she'd read it so many times and page eighty-seven had been ripped out, but it had Nicholas Sparks' signature on the first page so she treasured it.

Shifting in her seat until her elbow was resting on the desk and her chin in her palm; she glanced once more at the clock which hung above Ms Darbus' head.

One minute left.

While most of the student body revelled in the fact that there was one minute until their weekend officially began, she cringed at the thought. There were numerous reasons for her lack of excitement for the weekend, the first and foremost one being that she simply enjoyed school. Even though her friends were books and no one gave her the time of day, she revelled in how much she could learn in one day.

She looked up when the bell finally rang and she shut her book, mentally noting which page she was on. She quickly packed her book and pen away – she had kept a pen out in case Ms Darbus had said anything important which, she admitted, was unlikely.

She rushed out of the classroom and skillfully weaved her way through the mass of bodies that crowded the halls. After immediately being labelled a geek and an introvert, she had become very good at quickly moving around the school without being noticed by any of her classmates.

Once out in the warm Albuquerque air, she plugged an ear phone into each ear and pulled her iPod out of her back jeans pocket. She turned it on before returning it to her pocket as she wasn't that fussed about what song would be playing.

She started walking down the sidewalk and scuffed her converse sneaker along the concrete. Once upon a time, she had been the type of girl to live in skirts and t-shirts with pretty patterns on them. She had been a make-up genius and she and her older sister would do makeovers on each other. However, that had ended when her sister, Johanna, had started high school.

And Gabriella? She stopped caring about her appearance a week after she had started the sixth grade. As she looked back, that was probably when everything changed. Johanna found a new obsession with boys and soon left to go to New York for college.

She had felt somewhat lonely but as time wore on - and she hadn't made any friends - she became kind of addicted to homework, reading and listening to music. She simply didn't bother attempting to make friends or act like she fitted in.

She cringed as she opened the mailbox and shuffled through the envelopes. She could hear her parents screaming at each other from the end of the driveway, just like they always did.

She noticed an envelope with her name on it and gasped silently at who sent it. They'd already replied. She quickly folded it and stowed it in her jeans pocket. Her mother didn't need to know just yet.

Home, sweet home.


	2. Not interested

**(A/N: Uh...the 'd' key on my laptop is dying a slow and painful death :P Don't own HSM x

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Chapter 1 – Not interested

It was still dark when I woke up to the quiet beeping from my alarm clock. My clock flashed angry red numbers: 5:15A.M., and I rubbed my eyes before rolling out of bed.

I always woke up early. My mom used to scold me over how little sleep I got - and of course, just to spite her, my dad would talk endlessly about how proud he was of his early-bird-daughter, and they would completely forget about me and argue with each other - but I can't help it. Even without my alarm I can guarantee I will be awake before six.

I tore today's sheet from my planner and scanned through it, groaning. I had a doctor's appointment today - doctor's appointments are highlighted in pink, because I really, really hate the colour pink - and my AP English paper on Shakespeare's 'As You Like It' was due tomorrow. That was okay, I had finished it the week after it had been assigned and I just needed to proof it twice before submitting.

I had laid out my clothes last night after vacuuming. Johanna called me crazy because I vacuumed every night before going to sleep, but it helped me wind down, making it easier for me to sleep, and it drowned out my parents who were inevitably arguing downstairs. I never wore anything too fancy or expensive despite my mom's complaints. Usually, like today, it was just skinny jeans and a random t-shirt with a light jacket.

I jogged down the stairs, gripping the railing tightly. I had a history of clumsiness, whether it was falling down the stairs or tripping over my own feet, so I had to be extra-careful. Coming to school in a wheelchair was just asking for trouble.

"Gabriella?" My mom called as I poured my cereal into a bowl. "Gabriella, don't eat your cereal dry, sweetie. You need milk!"

I always ate my cereal dry. It was a habit I'd picked up over the years. When I wore braces in sixth grade, I poured orange juice in my cereal so it wasn't so hard to chew, but orange juice and my organic strawberry cereal didn't go very well so that habit didn't stick. Besides, milk on its own – I can still taste it with cereal – is disgusting. I only drink it when it's mixed with coffee…or in chocolate…

"Nina, don't bother her. She's old enough to make her own decisions now," My dad hissed as I gulped down some water and grabbed some converse sneakers.

"You're lucky I didn't leave, most wives would have walked out years ago, so don't you start," My mom ground out.

I could feel the tears burning at my eyes and threatening to fall as my dad came up with an icy retort. I hate to admit it but my parents have a strong love-hate relationship but I just have an overpowering fear that someday, the hate will take over the love. But, after all, their oldest daughter had fled small-town Albuquerque for New York and so why pretend that everything is okay around me?

"Bye," I shouted, and grabbed my bookbag before running out the door. The sun was beginning to illuminate the night sky and my cell phone buzzed in my back pocket. I made it to the park before sitting down and flipping it open. I didn't have a fancy phone, or anything even remotely functional, but I bought it myself and paid for everything with my money and so I was happy.

_One new text message from Jo: Hey Gab, sup?_

I snickered. Only Johanna would know to text me this early in the morning. Actually, only Johanna would text me at all. I sobered at that thought.

_School. M+D fighting. u?_

I stayed in the park for a while longer, finishing up my calculus homework – it wasn't due for another two days but how much is there to do at seven in the morning - and reviewing my English paper. I was at school by 7:32, exactly when Fred, the maintenance guy, opened the front doors.

"Gabriella, how you doin'?" He greeted, holding the door open for me.

I smiled a watery smile, nodding politely and then started walking to my locker. I always organized and re-organized my locker in the mornings, waiting for school to start. It was kind of like vacuuming my room: it took my mind off things for a little bit and besides, I liked watching the people trickle in until the hallways were crowded and loud. Then, I usually escaped to the music room to be by myself. I didn't actually play an instrument - I had given up the piano at age eight, and it broke my mom's heart. Johanna swears that she never was the same after that - but it was a place to wipe my tears and rea for a while before school started.

I didn't like to be the first to homeroom. Eccentric Mrs. Darbus always came up with things for me to do, ranging from tutoring failing students to overseeing the detention kids while they painted her drama sets. I always declined because it was just another way to get picked on.

Sometimes, though, I wondered whether it was better to be picked on and mercilessly teased than to be ignored. Everyone ignored me, I was verging on invisible. It's like I owned Harry Potter's cloak. I rarely talked, was awful at sports, and wasn't in any clubs. I swear that if it weren't for group projects in science, I would disappear altogether. And even then, the other students always left me to do all of the work. I wondered which day a teacher was going to look on their attendance sheet, and then back up at me, and frown and tell me that there was no Gabriella Montez in her homeroom.

"Ah, Gabriella! I'm going to re-assign seats, you will be sitting over here," Darbus fluttered over to the seat closest to the windows in the third row from the front.

I nodded, watching my feet as I moved my things. We had never had assigned seats before, and homeroom was only a ten-minute period where she gave us the announcements for the day, but it was no surprise.

The basketball boys, particularly Chad Danforth and his best friend Troy Bolton, were always rowdy and disruptive and she was obviously trying to separate them. Darbus directed Troy to the seat in front of me, and Chad to the front row right beside her desk. He started complaining, and Troy started cheering for him.

"Yeah, Chad!" He whooped, giving his friend an air high-five. Darbus sank into her roller chair, looking tired and disgusted at the same time just as the bell rang, causing all students – even the jocks – sink into their chairs.

"Drama auditions start this afternoon. Anyone – and I repeat, _anyone_, Mr Bolton, who gets detention two or more times in the coming weeks from me may be facing a part in the play, or as a backstage crew member. Mr. Danforth, Mr. Bolton, this includes you two especially," Darbus glared.

Last year, when she had said the same thing, Chad and Troy had, as usual, earned themselves detention by the end of homeroom that morning, and Darbus had declared that they would perform as extras in her play. Troy's dad, the gym teacher and basketball coach, Mr Bolton, - I absolutely dreaded him, as well as his class as gym provided all too many opportunities for me to break a bone - protested to the principal, Mr Matsui. After arguing over it for several days, Mr Matsui, who is known to be biased towards sports and sports players, agreed that Darbus' punishment would be detrimental to the sports future of East High.

"Ms Darbus, what is the play about?" Sharpay raised her perfectly-manicured hand in the hair, her blonde hair bouncing. I swore she was a natural brunette, and sometimes I wondered if she really liked the color pink. She hadn't worn pink in sophomore year, it was only after she became friends (friends-with-benefits, no doubt) with Troy Bolton that she'd taken to attention-getting clothes and the color pink, but maybe I was just over-analyzing the whole thing.

"Love, Miss Evans," Darbus threw her arms about and Chad coughed to hide his laughter. "How the most unlikely people fall in love, how opposites attract, and how love changes people."

"I've already designed the sign-up sheets for you, Mrs. Darbus!" Sharpay exclaimed as the bell rung, and everyone shuffled out. I caught a glimpse of the stack of papers in her hands as I was leaving the room – pink and gold, as always.

I rolled my eyes. If Sharpay Michelle Evans was anything, she was a kiss-up. She's always been in my life – she lived a couple of houses down from mine – and believe it or not, we used to be best friends. _Used to be _being the operative words. Of course, once she realized the potential popularity she could achieve by trying that little bit harder with her appearance, I was forgotten.

But for a few years, it was always Sharpay and Gabriella. We would go shopping together - mostly bookstores, but when Johanna was driving us, we would visit the small boutiques that sold cute, cheap jewellery - and we were so close that we used to tell people that we were twins – no one believed us, however, as I ha a deeper skin complexion and we o live, after all, in a small town.

That was a long time ago. I think she ended the friendship in sixth grade, and I remember that I cried for weeks and weeks until I finally figured out that I was better off without her.

I bumped into someone on my way out of the classroom, distracted by my trip down memory lane. "Oh, I'm sorry," I muttered an apology without even thinking, and stacked my dropped books.

"Hmmm…" An unimpressed voice exclaimed.

I straightened up, hugging my books tightly to my torso. "What do you want, Sharpay?" I sighed.

Sharpay flipped her blonde hair – and I swear I saw some brown at her roots - over her shoulder and straightened her back, looking down at me contemptuously. We were the same height, but she was wearing a pair of white four-inch heels which obviously gave her a confidence boost. Her brown eyes told me that she immediately recognized me but why should _the _Sharpay Evans talk to me in any way which suggests we are or ever were friends? "Ms Darbus wants me to hand these flyers out for the spring musical auditions." She thrust one of the pink flyers at me, her fake nails scratching my shoulder, and I stumbled back with surprise.

I accidentally stepped on someone's foot and something hard collided with my back, forcing me to step forward and swivel around to face- "I'm so sorry."

Troy Bolton shrugged slightly and stuffed his hands into his pockets, his eyes glued on Sharpay's chest. "No worries."

I shook my head to myself in disgust and turned back to Sharpay, handing the flyer back to her. "I'm not auditioning, Sharpay."

A tiny smug smile flitted across her face in a way which suggested that she glad there was less competition. "Oh well, okay. See you in class."

I rolled my eyes as she stepped towards Troy and they both made their way down the corridor. Although it was clear that Sharpay recognized me, I'd be surprised if she so much as remembered my name. And Troy? There was no hope for him whatsoever.

He had never spoken more than two words at any one time to me. The only time he did speak to me was when I bumped into him. And that was on very, very odd occasions. This time was the first one in about five months. Like I said, I try my very best to go unnoticed. The more people that don't know of my existence, the less torment I receive.

A simple yet effective plan which proved my hypothesis of people being swallowed too deeply by the temptation of popularity to even consider that one lonely student might attend school simply because she wants to learn something new.

You know when you get a hunch that your day is going to be absolutely – please excuse my language; I promise I don't curse very often – crap? That feeling just shot through my body like a lightning bolt.

* * *

Troy dribbled the ball, ran up to the net and took a shot. The basketball careened around the rim for a few anxious seconds and then fell through the net.

"He shoots, and he scores! 57 for the Wildcats, and zero for the Knights!" Chad shouted jubilantly, cupping his hand around his mouth commentator-style.

Jason laughed, and smacked Chad's shoulder. "So, I heard from a little birdie that the one and only Troy Bolton is officially single, and not tied down by the hot and rich Sharpay Evans. Is this true, Mr. Bolton?" Jason asked, holding his fist under Troy's chin in an imitation of a microphone.

"We weren't ever going out, but I ended the, uh, friendship we had before practice started." Troy muttered, pushing his friend's hand away before going over to the bleachers for a drink.

"Dude – that means Sharpay is mad at you, looking for revenge, and I'm the perfect man," Zeke breathed, and Troy raised an eyebrow.

"You're going to turn your back on your best man?" He asked Zeke, returning to the court and taking a blind shot, air balling it. Zeke bit his lip, shrugged, and ran out of the gym, the double doors slamming behind him. Jason was at his heels, not one to miss the drama, but Chad stayed behind.

"Are you sure you're okay, man? I mean, you really liked her in junior year, and now that it's over, is it really okay that Zeke's asking her out?" Chad put a hand on Troy's shoulder.

Troy shrugged. "I've got my eye on a hot blonde with an even hotter accent. She's a year younger than us, but that accent is just too much. Zeke can do whatever he wants with Sharpay."

Chad grinned. "Troy likes Tiara! You like Tiara, man. There's something about those eyes that is a total turn-off for me." Chad shuddered, picking up a basketball and dribbling it a few times.

"Dude, you haven't like liked, anyone since the ninth grade. I'm really starting to wonder, are you gay or something?" Troy joked as he made another shot.

Chad rolled his eyes. "I have my eyes on someone."

Troy smiled, amused. "Are her eyes perfect, her nose original, and her cheeks shiny but not too shiny?" He teased, remembering Chad's criticism of the girls he'd liked in the past as the gym doors opened.

Chad looked genuinely excited, and he dropped the basketball to grin proudly at Troy. "Yeah! Have you talked to her? Oh, my god, you could introduce us and then I'll ask her out. You don't like her, though, do you?"

Jack Bolton cleared his throat, and both boys looked at him guiltily. "Are you two ladies done chatting?" He asked, narrowing his eyes at Chad. "And tell me, where is the rest of my team?"

Troy rested his hand against the back of his neck nervously, and Chad ran his fingers through his hair and shifted his weight, looking at Troy.

"Rocketman said the juniors are busy doing something to do with a science field trip. Zeke and Jason are babysitting their sisters, and Troy is making up the English test he failed last week," Chad lied.

Troy groaned, hitting his best friend around the head. "Chad, Dude, I'm right here."

"Boys, if you don't tell me right now where the rest of my team is, there are going to be serious consequences and I don't think the rest of the school wants to see us forfeit the West High game next month because my players aren't showing up to practice." Jack glared pointedly at his son.

"Okay, okay. Rocketman was here for ten minutes and then he left, the rest of the juniors never showed up. I think, like, Sean and Derek showed up but left with Rocketman, and then Zeke left to ask out Sharpay and Jason left to watch Sharpay turn him down. But we're still here, because we're dedicated, isn't that right, Troy?"

"Yes, we are. We are dedicated basketba-" Troy started with a grin.

"Cut the crap, Ladies. You can go, but please warn your teammates that they will be staying here until nine tomorrow night to make up for missing today's practice." Jack stormed away, muttering under his breath.

"Hey, Chad, is the accent-girl single?" Troy asked casually, as they were walking to the locker rooms.

Chad stroked an imaginary beard, thinking. "Yeah, I think. I saw her and Ryan hanging out last week outside the music rooms, but Ryan's probably gay and they were probably waiting for Sharpay to finish singing or something."

Troy nodded, deep in thought. It didn't matter if she was single, he knew that every girl in the school wanted to be with him. Heck, he could probably go and tell Sharpay that it was all a big mistake, and she would be running back into his arms again.

He still remembered the day he told Sharpay that he wanted an open relationship so he could spend some quality time with her best friend, Emma, and she had nodded and emotionally told him that she would do anything as long as he was still with her. Troy chuckled.

Girls. They were all so dumb, sometimes.

"Don't you think, Dude?" Chad asked, whacking his best friend with a rolled up towel.

"Ow!" Troy yelped in pain, rubbing the back of his leg. "Need you pain me to get my attention?"

Chad rolled his eyes. "Please tell me you're not going to need a cold shower because you're thinking of Tiara." He grumbled, pulling his jersey over his head and sniffing it before gagging.

Troy shook his head, pulling his locker open. "I'm not thinking about Tiara."

"Then what… I'm not going to bother." His best friend decided. "I was asking you whether you thought Taylor might ask me to the prom."

Troy pulled his own jersey over his head and rummaged through his locker for his shirt. "Who?"

Chad groaned and started banging his head against the locker door. "Please, Lord, take me now."

"No, tell me." Troy pleaded.

"Your princess girlfriend has rubbed off on you." Chad muttered as he finished getting change.

Troy glowered at his best friend as he, too, finished getting changed. "You're just jealous."

Chad shut his locker and laughed sarcastically. "Why would I be jealous of you?"

"I've got every girl falling all over me." Troy said, flicking his collar.

"Uh-huh. I hope you know I just want Taylor, right? And that you need to pass English otherwise you're not seeing the championship game, prom or graduation!" Chad exclaimed as the two best friends left the locker room.

"And I will pass English and graduate. I've got it covered." Troy said calmly.

"How?" Chad exclaimed. "You're failing. The only way you'll pass is if you ace the finals next month."

"And I will. Relax. You're passing so don't worry about meeee-ahhh!" Troy swiftly reached out and caught the petite girl who had just collided with him. "Whoa. Hold your horses. The last I checked, the school wasn't burning down. But, it should be with you around."

The beautifully curled brunette head lifted from her book and she rolled her eyes, peering up at him through her eyelashes. "Is that the best you can do to get a girl's attention?"

Troy shrugged modestly. "How about this one: have you seen my library card because I'm checking you out?"

The girl slowly shut her book and stepped out of his arms. "You surprised me. I didn't know you owned a library card." She held his gaze for a second before stepping around him and continuing on her way.

"Hold up!" Troy yelled after her. He waited until she faced him and he admired the sleek, feminine figure she was clearly oblivious to owning, and her capability of pulling off skinny jeans, a t-shirt she had clearly chosen at random and a light jacket over her torso. "Aren't you going to tell me your name?"

She was clearly contemplating the question as she gripped her book with both hands and raised her shoulders. Her eyes were on the ceiling and she switched between standing on her heels and the balls of her feet for a few moments before freezing her movements and connecting her eyes with his. "Maybe." She gave him the ghost of a smile before turning on her heel and continuing on her way.

"What was that?" Chad laughed.

Troy shot him a reproachful look. "Why are you laughing?"

"Because," Chad paused to place a mockingly comforting hand on his friend's shoulder, "She is so not your type. Trust me. She's not going to be easy."

"I was just going to make her think I liked her until she tutored me for English. She doesn't even look like a girl so I would never date her in a million years. But anyway, when have I ever trusted you?" Troy muttered as he shrugged Chad's hand off and walked ahead.

Chad quickly followed and sighed. "Do you want my opinion or not?"

"Didn't you just give it?" Troy questioned with a quirked eyebrow.

"Maybe…" Chad trailed off.

"Go on." Troy mumbled.

"Forget her. She's not going to be interested in you if her hair was on fire and you were the last bucket of water on earth." Cha exclaimed.

"How do you know?" Troy frowned. He didn't care about the girl, what interested more was Chad's apparent knowledge about the mysterious other part of the species.

"Come on, have you seen any of your girlfriends even pick up a book, or come up with a snappy comeback? And which girl would turn you down like that?" Chad questioned knowingly.

"Maybe she's new and doesn't know me," Troy said, and ran his fingers through his hair.

Chad looked at his best friend thoughtfully. "You think? She looks familiar, but I don't know where I've seen her bef–"

The corners of Troy's mouth lifted when he spotted a familiar blonde inspecting the drama bulletin board. "Yeah, yeah. Hey, Tiara!" He hollered as he jogged over to the younger blonde.

_I was minding my own business doin' what I do_

_I wasn't trying to look for anything_

_All of a sudden couldn't take my eyes off you_

_I didn't even know if you could tell_

That you had me in a daze sayin' 'What the hell'

_-Do It Well, Jennifer Lopez_


	3. Seperation

**A/N: Okay, so I know it's been forever since I've uploaded but my life has been really suckish and so has glaceauxfraises' so sorry. Besides, I've been concentrating on 'beautiful disaster' Don't own HSM

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Chapter 2 – Seperation

I looked on in disgust as Troy leaned down to kiss Tiara's cheek and I shuddered when his hand trailed under her skirt. I shouldn't be that surprised. I heard Sharpay bawling her eyes out in the bathroom during free period, and Troy would need someone to take out his hormones on.

I turned back to my locker and found 'The Rescue,' my English notebook and my copy of 'Pride and Prejudice' which I have to study for my exam next month. It's basically revision. I read it back in middle school and it's definitely in my top one hundred books of all-time list (yes, I do keep lists like that. It goes hand-in-hand with the organization.)

It's hard to believe that I've bumped into Troy Bolton twice in one day. That's never happened before. Besides, he was supposed to be in basketball practice. I mean, it was free period. He's always in practice during free period! Not that I'm stalking him, but it's pretty much common sense. At the beginning of high school, everyone was told that sports teams practiced during free period and that's how it's been ever since.

Taylor McKessie walked down the hall, gushing to her best friend Martha about the latest exams. They looked so happy, and I sighed, rubbing my eyes. I was fairly normal - I wasn't a really snappy dresser - but I deserved to have friends. I should have had friends, I knew I could have gotten along with Taylor, or Kelsi, or Martha, but I was invisible to them. I was invisible to everyone, I was just the girl at the back of the classroom, I never got detention, never spoke up in class, hardly ever got called on and wasn't in any sports teams or clubs.

I turned to shut my locker and started walking down the hall, weaving between the other students to get to my English classroom. I froze, feeling someone's eyes on me, and conspicuously spun on my heel. But no one was looking at me – except a freshman, who was eyeing me weirdly. Hey, I wasn't the one wearing the bright green 'I believe in fairies,' tee.

I spun around and continued on my way. I entered my English classroom and took my seat at the back of the classroom, closest to the windows. I set my books on the desk and sank into the chair, waiting for the bell to ring. It's hard to believe that so many people have something against me because of one lousy year difference in age. It's so ... clique-ified, as Johanna would say. It's simply discrimination, bullying and, for me, isolation. It bothered me in the beginning but, now, I've learnt to live with it.

"Hoops, catch!" A voice hollered.

I looked up to see Troy – yes, Troy Bolton takes AP classes, no doubt his father's suggestion – enter the classroom backwards, facing Chad. I groaned to myself and pulled 'The Rescue' towards me, opening it somewhere in the middle, and began to read.

"No, Dude, I'm in-" He cut short.

"Ow!" I cried as something spherical collided with my shoulder.

"-class." Troy finished quietly. "Sorry."

I squeezed my eyes shut, willing the tears to disappear. _Don't cry, oh god, don't cry_, I chanted to myself. The bell rang, and I could hear Chad's heavy footsteps as he ran out the door.

Ms. Samuels strutted into the classroom with a bright smile at Troy Bolton (I could never figure out why she liked him so much. Sure, he was a teacher's son, but he was a straight-D student, and frequently talked back in class. Really, Ms. Samuels?)

"Welcome. Today, we will be talking about Romeo and Juliet. Last night, I assigned pages thirty-seven to seventy-two, and today we're going to discuss the philosophical and lyrical meaning of the passage within those pages."

I started to open my spiral notebook, a ballpoint pen in hand, but I hesitated. Maybe today I wouldn't take notes. Maybe today I'd try to be like everyone else, just for the forty-five minutes until the end of school.

The classroom was unusually quiet. My pen was usually scratching against my paper frantically, but not today. No one seemed to notice, and I found myself relaxing as I stared out the window. Ms. Samuels had given this lecture yesterday, anyway, so it wouldn't matter if I missed anything. I had the word-for-word lecture in the notes section of my binder, with the date neatly written across the top.

Organizing was something that came naturally to me. I liked to organize things, I liked everything to be perfectly in place and beautifully neat. Johanna was the complete opposite; I can remember having several fights with her over organization when we shared a bedroom.

The bell rang, and fifteen minutes later, I found myself walking home with my iPod earbuds in. I checked the mail at the end of the driveway as usual, and walked up to the house.

Then it hit me: I couldn't hear voices. I couldn't hear anything besides my music; my house was quiet. I walked in the front door warily, wondering when was the last time that I had come home to a near-silent house.

And that was when I saw them; my dad was backed up against the kitchen counter and my mom was hissing at him, her finger on his chest. She spun around upon hearing the door click, and faced me.

"Gabriella! Your father and I have agreed, we think it's best if we separated for a while. Sort out feelings. You especially know that we've been through some tough times-"

My dad rolled his eyes. "What she's trying to say is that this marriage isn't working out, we're not sure about divorce but separation was something we agreed on."

My eyes filled with tears as my mom turned to face my dad, glaring at him.

Divorce.

Separation.

It was all legal terms, but I understood the gist.

Separation.

Sure, my parents hadn't gotten along swimmingly in the past few years and arguing had become the norm but . . . separation.

"Gabriella!" My mom shouted as I dropped my school bag just inside the front door and ran out, feeling the tears welling up. It was really happening, oh, god. I pulled out my cell phone, and wiped the screen.

_Battery Life: Drained. Please Charge._

I had a strange urge to chuck the phone at the ground, and crush it underneath my shoe but that wouldn't get me anywhere.

I couldn't believe the casual way she broke the news to me, as if she wanted this to happen. But, oh god, she looked happy about all of that.

I guess this life has turned into a highway to nowhere.

* * *

Troy shot another basket and jogged up to the hoop to catch it. "Chad, will you shut up for five minutes?"

Zeke and Jason laughed and shook their heads. "Dude, he's talking about this Taylor chick. He won't stop talking." Zeke explained.

"Taylor chick?" Chad exclaimed indignantly. "She's not just some chick! She's a person."

"Since when do you know the difference between a chick, and a girl? Dude, you haven't even said a word to her and she's got your panties in a twist," Troy joked.

Jason rolled his eyes. "Troy will not understand that concept."

"Why not?" Troy exclaimed indignantly.

"You dumped Sharpay for Tiara." Zeke muttered.

"And?" Troy exclaimed.

"Well, there is one girl that caught Troy's eye." Chad said as he spun a basketball on his finger.

"She didn't catch my eye!" He growled.

"Who is it?" Jason asked excitedly.

"Why are you so happy?" Troy demanded.

"_The _Troy Bolton might, possibly, be thinking of settling down!" He exclaimed. Troy narrowed his eyes. Jason just wanted a free-pick among the cheerleaders, most of whom preferred to stay single in case Troy was interested.

"For the last time, she didn't catch my eye!" Troy yelled in exasperation.

"Oh God, you should've seen him." Chad laughed. "He wouldn't stop looking at her."

Troy rolled his eyes. "You can all go home now."

Zeke hooted loudly. "Bolton's settling down."

"Dude, I don't even know her name. Now get out of here!" He slapped Zeke on the head.

He watched as they all grabbed their stuff and left his backyard, heading out to annoy their families. He sighed deeply as he picked up a basketball and stared at it intently. The girl had caught his eye, but something was different. The way she talked to him… It was like, almost, that she didn't know who he was. But, that was impossible, right? Everyone knew him. Maybe she was new…

And the way she had turned him down. She had actually retorted in a smart way. No girl had done that before. Then again, he had just taken it for granted that every girl wanted him. So now that he knew not every girl did, he was kind of exhilarated.

He groaned in frustration and threw the basketball angrily onto the floor before he ran into his house, being greeted by giggles coming from the kitchen. He smiled when he saw his mother cooking dinner and his little sister, Demi, sitting at the island, colouring in some pictures. "Hey, Blue Eyes."

Demi looked up and smiled brightly at her older brother. She held her arms up and giggled when he picked her up. "Troy!"

He kissed her forehead and walked over to his mother, Lucille. He kissed her cheek as he reached past her to grab two cookies – one for him and one for Demi – from a plate. "Hey, Mom."

Lucille swatted his hand away. "Don't spoil your dinner!" She scolded. "How was school?"

Troy shrugged as he handed a cookie to Demi. "It was…okay. I mean, how good can school get? Really?"

Lucille laughed as she stirred some tomato sauce which was cooking on the stove. "Honey, next year, you'll be in college. Enjoy your time left in high school."

Troy sighed as he set Demi back at the island. "Mom, it's been one of them days is all. There was practice, Chad hit a girl in the head with a basketball and blamed me and I still haven't found a tutor for English."

Lucille rubbed her hands on her apron and sighed. "Just post a flyer on a bulletin board or something, Sweetheart."

"I can't do that." Troy cried. "My friends would find out!"

Lucille sighed. "Sweetheart, at some point, you've got to ignore what your friends think and do what's right. Now, take the trash out and then take a shower."

Troy rolled his eyes and sighed. "Yes, Mom." He left the kitchen with a black bag in his hands. He walked out of the front door and walked to the end of the driveway to dump the trash bag into the can near the sidewalk. He shut the lid and saw a girl sitting on the curb just under his mailbox.

She lifted her head as a sob escaped her mouth. She gasped at the sight of Troy - sweaty and dressed in a basketball jersey and baggy shorts. "Oh, um… You live here?"

Troy nodded as he realised that it was _the girl_. "Uh, yeah." He walked towards her and frowned. "You okay?"

She shrugged and stood up, walking away.

Troy quickly followed her and began walking beside her. "What's wrong?"

She spun around to stand in front of him, her milky brown eyes blazing with anger. "How do you know something's wrong? Tell me!"

He stepped back slightly. "You just look really upset is all."

She folded her arms and the anger which was once in her eyes died down until they were glossy with tears. "Maybe I am, I don't know."

"Hey, have you eaten? My mom's serving dinner soon and there'd be plenty for you." He said gently.

Her bottom lip quivered slightly before shaking her head. "No. I don't want your food. I don't need anything from you!"

"Whoa, hold up there. I'm just worried about you." He whispered.

"Worried? You don't know the meaning of the word. Besides, you don't know my name." She whimpered, tears sliding down her tanned cheeks. She ran a hand through her thick curls in clear hysteria.

"You said you'd tell me it." Troy exclaimed. "Please. Let me help."

She shook her head frantically. "I told you I might tell you my name. And I told you I don't need your help. I'm sure Tiara is waiting in your room or something."

Troy stared at her in disbelief. "Are you jealous of Tiara?"

"Troy, come on. I need you showered before dinner." Lucille yelled from the house.

Troy turned to his house and sighed. "I'll be there in a second, Mom." He turned back around but the girl was gone.

He sighed and turned back around, trudging up his driveway. Something was wrong. He knew that. When he met her in the hallway, she didn't seem like the kind of girl who cried. So, what would be so bad that she would be crying whilst walking alone at five thirty in the evening?

She didn't even tell him her name.


	4. Different

**A/N: Finally done! lol. chapter 3 is here! hehe. Don't own HSM

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Chapter 3 - Different

I went to school that week feeling like a robot. I felt numb, and alone, and depressed. Who could blame me?

I hadn't talked to Johanna since my parents broke the news to me. (Actually, I hadn't talked to anyone except my English teacher once.)

Now, Wednesday evening, I was seriously contemplating sleeping on a bench in the park. Actually, I had packed my overnight things and was sitting on the stairs of the front porch, debating. The fighting was too much to handle. Every night, every day – and then, the worst of it had come when I found out that both my parents were having affairs. (My dad proclaimed to be in love with his secretary, but they hadn't gotten physical yet. My mom …she claimed to have slept with a few guys here and there…)

I wasn't an outdoorsy person. I hated the trees, the bugs, the cold – everything, really. I wasn't usually the type of person to cry; I took my parents' fighting in stride but I had no one to turn to. No one at all.

You know what they say: When the going gets tough, the tough get going.

So hell, I was out of here.

I stood up, my over-stuffed backpack straining against my shoulders, and made my way to the near-deserted park. It was nine o'clock at night, and all the benches were empty. The small pond nearby was completely still and the only sound was an owl hooting in the background. I made myself comfortable (well, as comfortable as I could get), and sat down, my bag sitting at my feet.

I found myself thinking about how long it would take for my parents to notice that I was gone, and if they would notice at all. I doubted the latter part.

The tears started flowing down my face, and I brought my knees up to my chest as I shivered in the cold. When I looked up again to wipe my eyes, there was someone sitting next to me. "Oh, my god," I gasped, clutching a hand over my heart and scooting over to one edge of the bench. I wiped my eyes again, and pinched my arm to make sure I wasn't dreaming.

Troy Bolton smirked. "And so we meet again," He proclaimed dramatically. He sighed loudly. "Will you tell me your name?"

"Are you stalking me, or something?" I shuddered. Sure, I had heard stories about his playboy ways (who hadn't?), but suddenly things started falling into place: the way he seemed to have sex with the entire female population of East High, the way he disappeared during lunch and always left his basketball buddies looking for him…

I sobbed, covering my face with my hands. He was going to kill me, and then stuff me in a brown bag and the police would find my body in twenty years, and they -

And then he laughed. A sound – I suddenly realized – was musical. His blue eyes twinkled as he tried to catch his breath, and with a last chuckle, "Oh, god…no. I was just playing basketball. It's my way to forget the pressure and stress, just playing basketball without anyone looking at me and judging me helps. And then I heard you crying, so I came out here."

We sat in a comfortable silence for a few moments, and I blushed hard at my silly assumption. As if Troy Bolton would stalk _me_. Oh, God, I'm going insane. Troy Bolton may be obnoxious and a player but, I knew at the back of my mind that he wasn't a stalker.

"I'm Gabriella. I've been in your homeroom for the past…six years, I think," I said finally, breaking the silence.

His eyes widened, and he ran a hand through his bangs. "I remember you. Oh, my god, I remember you, I really do. You were the girl who skipped a grade, and you used to spend lunch in the library before you decided that you preferred eating lunch on the rooftop garden!"

I blushed again. "How did you know that? I thought I was the only one who knew. Well, except for the science club."

"No," He grinned. "Used to be my spot, but when I saw you eating there one day during lunch, I left. You didn't see me. It's totally cool, don't worry about it. I liked the football field better," He winked. "Why are you crying?" He looked at me with a look in his eyes I didn't recognize.

"Personal reasons," I muttered vaguely, avoiding his eyes. Last thing I wanted was for him to go spreading my story through the whole school.

He scooted closer to me, and gently lifted my chin so that I was looking at him. "I promise, I won't tell a soul. It's just, this is, like, the millionth time I've seen you cry this week and you don't strike me as the crying type of person. What's up?"

Somewhere in that speech, I broke down. He moved closer, so he was sitting right beside me and allowed me to rest my head on his shoulder while I spilled my life story, and he nodded. It wasn't a nod like he wanted me to think he was listening. It was a nod that told me he was there for me.

* * *

"…and I always feared my parents would separate but I never really thought it would happen." Gabriella cried into Troy's shoulder.

Somewhere during her story, Troy's arm had wound around her shoulders and Troy didn't plan to stop holding her anytime soon. How anyone could deprive this girl from the attention she deserved and – no matter how much she denied it – craved was beyond Troy. Whilst her parents fought at home, people in school ignored her. If they didn't ignore her, they bullied her. He felt his chest tighten at the realization that he hadn't helped at all. He hadn't noticed her blank expression in any of his classes he shared with her. Which was, he now realised, more or less every one except gym.

"And now Jo is off in New York and I thought it was okay being alone – something I wanted. But," Her lip trembled as a fresh load of tears poured over her cheeks, "It's not. I used to have friends, I swear I did. But, that was before high school. And before the sixth grade."

Troy shifted so that his arm was still wrapped around her but he was facing her. He could tell from her eyes that it was the end of her story and knew that she was silently asking him to be her friend. "I'm so sorry Gabby." He whispered.

She suddenly glared at him furiously, breaking from his hold to move even further away from him. "I don't want your sympathy." She snapped.

"I know that." He said conversationally as he stayed where he was. The last thing he wanted to do was to push her even further away. So, the best thing, he decided, was to let her come to him. "I wasn't offering sympathy. I'm offering something you and I both know you want and need."

She looked across at him and shivered slightly. "I don't need you, Troy."

Troy held his hands up. "I wasn't talking about me, personally. I was talking about my home. Where it's warm and dry and there's always food in the fridge." He paused before he finally moved over to her and grasped her hand. "And I'm there. Me. The guy who has noticed you."

"You forgot I've been in your homeroom since the sixth grade, Troy. And what about Tiara and all those girls? My emotions have been meddled with enough by my own family. Why should I give you the chance to do the same?" She whispered, turning her focus to her lap.

Troy sighed. "Gabby, you're different. I swear I would never hurt you."

"That's what everyone says until they do." She muttered, her fingers still interlocked with his.

"What can I do to make you trust me?" He asked gently, tilting her head to look in her eyes.

"I don't know." She whispered. "Why should I trust you?"

"Because I care about you." He whispered in reply. "I swear I do. I may not know anything about you but I want that to change. I want to know everything about you and protect you. Please, Gabby! Don't stay out here alone."

Gabriella sighed and nodded. "Okay." She whispered. "Why do you call me Gabby?"

"Doesn't everyone call you that? It's kind of the obvious one."

She shook her head. "I'm only ever Gabriella." She suddenly gave him a small smile. "I like it."

"Good." He murmured as he hesitated before he planted a quick kiss on her cheek. "So, um, do you want to come back to my place? I mean, you'll have to cope with my crazy family but, I mean, you were friends with Sharpay for years."

She giggled quietly but sighed. "I don't know, Troy. I mean,"

"Hey, if it makes you feel any better, no girl has been in my room before. I promise you. You'll have to sleep in my room tonight because my parents will be in bed and the guest room needs sorting." Troy explained. "But, I'll totally sleep on the floor. It's cool."

She bit her lip thoughtfully and saw the honesty within his eyes. "Troy, I'm fine here."

"You sure?" He asked skeptically. "You don't seem all that into nature."

"What do you mean?" She asked indignantly, tugging on his arm slightly as she waved her hands about. "For your information I love-" She interrupted herself to scream in surprise as she heard an owl hoot in the background and then a flock of birds flew overhead at the sudden disruption.

Troy raised his eyebrows in amusement. "Oh, yeah. I can see that you just love the outdoors. Come on, I'm serious. I'm taking you home with me."

Gabriella sighed and stared at their still interlocked hands. "You're very stubborn, aren't you?"

Troy sighed. "Kind of. I just want you to be safe. And if you're not coming home, I'm staying here."

She looked up at him and finally nodded. "Okay, I'll stay at your house. It can't be worse than mine."

Troy got to his feet and picked her bag up. He pulled it onto his shoulder before smiling down on her. He offered her his hand. "Come on. There's a nice warm house where we're going. And a crazy little girl but you'll cope with her. I promise."

Gabriella accepted his hand and allowed him to pull her up. "You know, no one's ever been bothered about me before." She whispered.

"I am. Remember last week when you walked into me twice. Once when I attempted to hit on you?" He asked softly.

She nodded. "Sure. They weren't the best pick-up lines, by the way."

Troy chuckled as he wrapped his arm around her shoulders once again and started leading her out of the park. "I know that. But, I haven't stopped thinking about you since then. And then I saw you crying outside my house and… I don't know. You're different, Gabby."

* * *

I stood there nervously as Troy unlocked his front door. My bag was still hanging from his shoulder – he refused to let me carry it – and his East High sports jacket which he had been wearing was now around my shoulders. I had been shivering the entire walk to his house and I finally accepted the warm jacket. "Are you sure your parents will be okay with this?"

Troy pushed the door open and sighed as he pulled me inside. "They'll be cool with it. I'm eighteen. I'm going to college in September. I'm a legal adult. They can't tell me what to do." He shut the door and turned to me.

"But, what if they think that we've, um," I swallowed in embarrassment, "you know, did _things_ and you get in trouble?"

Troy smiled and shook his head. "You don't know my parents. Despite my reputation at school, they trust me. My dad knows about the reputation, obviously, but that's all it is to him. A reputation."

"I take it you don't bring many girls home, huh?" I asked quietly as I followed him into the kitchen where he flicked the kettle on.

"I've brought two home." He admitted. "Sharpay and Vicky. Coffee, tea or hot chocolate?"

"Uhh…Coffee, please." I replied timidly. I walked over to him and touched his arm – which had been exposed to the cold air and was like ice under my touch – and he looked down at me. My lip trembled slightly and I rested my forehead against his upper arm. "You don't like your reputation, do you?" I whispered.

Troy turned back to spooning the coffee into two mugs, his muscles flexing under my forehead. "Not really." He muttered. "It comes with the territory."

"Why don't you just…stop, then?" I asked, lifting my head to frown at him.

He sighed and poured the boiling water into the mugs. He then poured the milk in and stirred them both. "Gabby, sometimes I want to be invisible."

"Invisibility isn't all it's cracked up to be." I whispered as I sipped my warm drink.

He sighed as he placed his mug down and cautiously wrapped his arms around my waist, his hands resting at the small of my back. My mug was still cradled in my hands. "Gabby, what I meant was that I just want things to be calmer and I just want to go to school and get good grades. I do. That's the reason I began going up the rooftop garden. It's quiet and I can think up there."

I nodded and took another sip. "I get it, Troy. Life isn't fair. Take it from somebody who knows." I whispered, looking up at him.

Troy removed his arms from my waist and picked his mug up again. "Gabby, it'll get better. I mean, look at this way: it can't get any worse."

"Is that your attempt at making me feel better?" I asked quietly as I felt a smile tug at my lips.

"Maybe. Come on. I'll show you to my room." He offered, grasping my hand. He picked my bag back up again and began leading me back through the house, turning the lights off as we went. He pulled me up the stairs and I followed him up the stairs.

"Troy?" I whispered.

"Yeah?" He asked as he let go of my bag and pushed open the door at the top of the stairs.

"What about your friends?" I asked nervously.

He turned to me as he turned the light on. His room wasn't so bad: the books on his desk were piled haphazardly, a few pairs of boxers on the floor and his bed was unmade. "Do you not want them to know about this?"

I shook my head slightly. "I might want a friend but I like to stay invisible. A girl like me gets harassed and it's better to be invisible. You just need someone to help me through it."

"Well, congratulations!" Troy exclaimed as he shut the door and kicked some stuff under his bed. "You're hired as my English tutor."

"What?" I asked quietly. Since when was this part of the deal?

"You don't want my friends to know? We'll say you're my English tutor. I mean, everyone knows I'm failing so I mean…Besides, I could use with a bit of help for the finals next month…" He trailed off as he set my bag down on his bed.

"I'll be your tutor." I whispered. "On one condition."

He turned to me and shrugged. "What?"

"Promise me I'm not some girl, right? You're not going to just leave me hanging as soon as the finals are done? I mean, when I leave, I don't-" I cut short at what I was about to say. He doesn't need to know that yet.

"I promise." He said softly. He kissed my cheek again before taking me in his arms.

I nodded in satisfaction and pulled back. "Um…I'm going to get ready for bed…"

Twenty minutes later, Troy and I were standing opposite each other awkwardly, silently asking each other what to do. "Ummm…I can sleep on the floor." Troy offered. He was in a grey t-shirt and some boxer shorts. I could tell by how he kept pulling at his shirt that he wasn't used to it and usually slept in boxers.

"I can. I'm the guest." I protested. Without thinking, I had grabbed the tank top and short pyjamas with pink bunnies on them and I kept shuffling my feet in embarrassment every time he looked at me.

"Exactly." Troy whispered.

I bit my lip before I took a deep breath. "Troy, you've got a king sized bed. Why don't we just share? Besides, I don't want to be responsible for messing up Troy Bolton's back."

Troy finally nodded. "Okay. That's fine, I guess. Tomorrow my mom will sort out the guest room so you can stay in there."

I smiled slightly in appreciation as we both climbed into bed. I pulled the covers up to my neck and sighed slightly. "Troy?" I whispered, looking towards his back – he was facing away from me.

"Yeah?" He asked into the darkness.

I leant over him to kiss his cheek. "Thank you."


	5. Clear my mind

**A/N: Okay, Alina sent me this chapter a fair few days ago but I've been sick and my laptop is STILL broken. hopefully it'll be back tomorrow :) Don't own HSM x

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Chapter 4 – Clear my mind

I walked back into Troy's bedroom, towel-drying my hair. Hopefully Troy wouldn't mind that I borrowed shampoo (I was expecting to sleep at the park. I didn't think I'd have the luxury of a shower.)

Something about Troy reassured me; I felt like I almost belonged. Maybe that was the reason I'd slept until five-thirty this morning (I usually woke up around five, or five-fifteen at the latest.)

I looked around the room and spotted a hamper, half-hidden under a pile of dirty clothes. I walked over to and stuffed my wet towels inside before running my hairbrush through my hair and tying it back into a ponytail. I glanced down at my outfit consisting of a pink floral blouse, black skinny jeans and a pink cardigan and nodded in satisfaction.

I heard groaning from the other side of the bedroom and I turned to see Troy had rolled onto his back and was slowly waking up. He had a sleepy smile on his face and I felt my chest tug slightly at the sight of it. He was being so kind to me, and he didn't even know me.

I was completely confused. I had always imagined Troy to be a cocky, arrogant jerk, but he was acting so sweet and he had done so much for me . . .

"Gabby," He murmured and then tossed over on his stomach. "Gabby. Gabriella," He whispered to himself, so softly that I could barely hear him.

I felt the heat rise up in my neck and make its way towards my cheeks. He was thinking about me? I shook my head to get rid of the thoughts which lingered there and wandered over to Troy's side of the bed and tugged on his arm. "Troy." I sang softly. "Come on, wake up."

Troy groaned again tugged on the sheets slightly. "Five more minutes." He muttered.

I giggled slightly and sat down on the edge of the bed. "Troy, come on."

His eyes fluttered open and I marvelled in the beauty of his eyes. They were the perfect shade of sapphire. "Good morning." He smiled up at me sleepily.

I let go of his hand and smiled back. "Good morning."

Troy sat up and stretched his arm and back muscles. "What time did you wake up?"

I shrugged slightly. "Five thirty." I mumbled.

"What?" Troy gasped. "What did you do all this time?"

I stared at my lap intently as I reeled off my early morning activities. "I unfolded and re-folded the clothes I packed back into my suitcase, I checked my schedule and organised my books for today – they're on your desk; and I just took a shower."

"You wake up this early every morning?" Troy enquired, cocking his head to the side.

I nodded, still staring at my lap. "Pretty much. I'm a pretty light sleeper since my parents began fighting." I muttered lifelessly.

Troy reached to me and took both my hands in his, rubbing his thumb across my palm. I closed my eyes peacefully, and he moved even closer to me so that his chest was in front of my face. I breathed deeply, comforted by his scent. He didn't smell of cologne or detergent – he smelt of something uniquely Troy. Maybe that's why I slept so well.

I swiftly realised what Troy was doing as he tugged softly at my hair. He was taking my hair out of its ponytail. He sat back and placed a few dark curls around my face, and ran his fingers through my hair a few times. He handed me my scrunchie and smiled crookedly at me. "It suits you better."

"Thanks." I mumbled as I took the scrunchie off of him.

"You're so much prettier when your hair's down. Don't ever think otherwise, okay?" Troy asked.

"Yeah, sure, whatever." Me? Pretty? No way.

"You don't believe me." Troy muttered as he lifted my chin. "I'm telling the truth. Please believe me." He murmured, and slouched down a little further so we were on eye-level.

"Troy, I spent my whole life believing that deep down, my parents loved each other. Look where that got me," I told him, and stood up to pack my bookbag.

I felt Troy's hand on my shoulder and a sigh escaped my lips. He bent down to press a firm kiss to my cheek and I felt his breath on my ear. "Stop comparing your parents to everyone else. I would never lie to you, Gabby."

Troy returned from the bathroom in a pair of baby blue jeans – they matched his eyes – and a blue and white striped shirt unbuttoned over a white wife beater. We walked down the stairs and paused in the hallway. "You go first. You're the guest, and the girl. Ladies first."

"Your house, your parents. Besides, you're the guy." I muttered, pushing him – it was almost impossible - towards the kitchen door.

"Fine." Troy grumbled. "I'll be the adult."

"I'm not legally an adult yet." I smiled innocently up at him.

Troy rolled his eyes and took my hand in his as he approached the kitchen door. "Good morning." Troy said softly.

His father – who I recognised from school – looked up from his newspaper. "Good morning, Troy. Who is this?"

"Oh, my god!" Troy exclaimed making everyone jump. "Is she really that invisible? She was in your class when we were freshmen and sophomores."

"Oh yeah." Mr Bolton said with recognition. "You're the girl who could shoot a basket every time but can't run without tripping."

Troy looked at me in surprise. "You can shoot a basket but not run?"

I glanced at his family and then turned back to Troy. I shrugged slightly. "It's just basic geometry and physics. It's not that hard."

"Says the freaky genius girl." Troy muttered. He dropped my hand and walked over to a little girl who was sitting next to Mr Bolton. She had the same blue eyes but her hair was slightly darker. "Blue Eyes, this is my friend, Gabriella." I smiled at the word _friend_. "Gabby, this is Demi, my sister."

I walked over to the little girl and shook her small hand. "Hey, Demi. How old are you?"

She bit her lip thoughtfully as she counted on her fingers. "Eight. How old are you?"

There was something in her voice which made me unconsciously smile. "Seventeen. A year younger than your brother." I looked up to see Troy and Mr and Mrs Bolton looking at me questioningly. "I love children. I want to be a pediatrician once I've finished college."

Mrs Bolton grinned and walked around the island towards me. "Well, I'm Lucille and that's Jack. What are you doing here, Gabriella?"

I looked over at Troy who immediately came back over with a plate of toast for me. "Mom?" He asked softly. "Can Gabby stay here for a while?"

"Only until after finals. I'll be out of your way by then. I promise." I whispered. Finals were half-a-week away.

Lcuille glanced at Jack and then patted Demi on the back. "Demi, honey, go into the lounge and watch some T.V. okay?"

Demi nodded and jumped off of her school before she skipped into the lounge.

I felt tears in my eyes and turned to Troy. "Troy," I whispered, "Can I go on to school, please?"

Troy frowned down at me. "Gabby…"

"No," I mumbled, slipping my hand out of his, "I just need some time. I'll be fine."

"Gabby, come on. Just wait in my truck. I'm driving you to school. And if you're not there remember that I can run a lot faster than you and I know where you'll go. I'll be two minutes tops." He promised, kissing my forehead.

I nodded. "Okay." I whispered as I bent down to pick up my bag. "It was nice meeting you Mr. and Mrs Bolton."

* * *

Troy sighed as he turned back to his parents as soon as Gabriella had left the house. "Don't say a word, please. She needs to stay here. I am not letting her go back to that hell hole she calls home. Please, Mom."

Lucille slowly turned to Jack. "Jack?"

Jack got to his feet and joined his wife. "What about basketball and U of A?"

Lucille hit him in the stomach. "That isn't what I meant." She turned to Troy and touched his shoulder. "I think what your father is trying to say is that you've got a little sister."

"I know, Mom." Troy moaned. "Gabby and I are just friends."

"You promise?" Lucille asked.

Troy nodded. "I swear."

"So, if she stays in the guestroom, will you promise to stay in yours?" Jack asked.

"I can't promise that. Not to do anything that Demi shouldn't see, but because…" He ran a hand through his hair and groaned. "She needs me."

Jack eyed his son. "She needs you?"

Jack and Lucille exchanged a glance. It was bad enough that they had just found out their son had shared a bed (and done who knows what else), now he wanted her to live with them?

Troy took a deep breath and took a bite of the toast which Gabriella had declined. "Her parents are separating and she's taking it pretty rough." He whispered. "She thought nobody noticed her and shut herself in books and music. Please, Mom."

Lucille sighed. "I'll talk to Gabriella when you come home and we'll discuss it then. But, if she stays here, I want her to call her parents to let them know she's safe." She turned to her husband, "Jack, I think you need to clean that garage," She hinted.

Jack shook his head, frustration evident on his face, and patted Troy on the back. "I'll see you at school, kiddo. Bye Luce," He affectionately kissed her and left the room.

Lucille raised her arms and rested them on Troy's shoulders. "Troy, do you like this girl?" She asked softly. Troy's forehead creased in a frown.

"No, I'm planning on asking someone out today. Well, sort of. Mom, the point is, she needs somewhere to stay. I don't like her that way." He exclaimed.

Lucille raised her eyebrows.

"Don't give me that look." Troy muttered. "It's true!"

Lucille sighed and fiddled with Troy's collar. "If she stays here, you can't let up on your studies. You're failing English."

Troy smiled broadly and placed his toast on the island. "Have I ever told you how great you are?" He embraced his parents and then pulled back to pick his bag up. "She already agreed to tutor me! I'll see you later." He dashed out of the door. "Gabriella!"

But she wasn't there. Troy frowned, and walked over to his car, swinging his backpack onto the hood of the car and he picked up a torn scrap of notebook paper with his named addressed on the front.

_Troy, thanks. Sorry. Don't look for me, you don't know where I'll be. Later, G.M._

Troy swore as he got into his car, and drove slowly to school. He was going to have to find some way to take his mind off Gabriella – for the past few days, she was the only thing on his mind.

As he pulled into the school parking lot, he spotted Shannon O'Mallory, a girl from the dance team. She waved flirtatiously, and Troy coolly got out of his car, forgetting entirely about his backpack, and walked over to her.

She would be perfect for getting his mind off of Gabriella.


	6. Home?

**A/N: I should've uploaded this ages ago and I totally forgot about it, tbh. I'm starting the next chapter tomorrow afternoon (I have a free period) but I'm not sure how long it'll take. I'm so sorry. This could've been uploaded ages ago. Sorry. Don't own HSM x

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Chapter 5 - Home

I ran.

I ran as far as I could before I collapsed against the elementary school playground. These kids wouldn't have recess until noon, so I had a good four or so hours until I had to leave.

I cried, and cried, and thought about Troy and my parents, and his parents. I didn't want to impose. I had had enough of imposing on people. I had depended on my parents for seventeen years and I didn't want to depend on Troy's parents now.

It was a sweet offer, but I didn't even know him. He probably wanted something in return – sex? money? – and I couldn't give him either.

I think I fell asleep for a while after that, because when I woke up, the first students were opening the gate to the playground. I made my way back to Troy's house, intent on staying until he returned from school and I had a chance to apologize before I left.

He deserved that much, no matter what he expected of me in return.

When I arrived back and rang the doorbell, Troy's mom answered. She frowned at me, obviously wondering what kind of girl I was to be skipping school and taking advantage of her son all in the same breath, so I smiled my sweetest smile and widened my eyes, blinking up at her.

Lucille soon recovered from her shock and gestured for me to go inside. "Gabriella, what on Earth are you doing here?"

I bit my lip and leant back against the wall. "I promise I never skip school. I just couldn't face Troy right now."

"Honey, what are you talking about? I thought you were going to stay here until the end of finals?" She asked in confusion.

I nodded and finally lifted my head. "I was going to. But, then I thought everything through. It's taken near enough six years for Troy to notice me. I don't see how or why I can get close to someone right now."

"Do you want some coffee or ice cream or something?" Lucille asked helplessly.

I nodded and gave her a weak smile. "Some coffee would be amazing right about now. If you don't mind, of course." I added hurriedly.

Lucille shook her head. "Nonsense. Come on." She took my hand and led me through to the kitchen. "Take a seat."

I climbed up onto the island which Demi had occupied earlier this morning. "Thank you for this, Mrs. Bolton."

Lucille flicked the kettle on and took down two mugs. "Don't worry about it. So, what's up?"

I sigh and rest my hands on the counter. "Mrs. Bolton, you and your family were amazing to me this morning and I'm very grateful, I am. I just don't think it's a good idea."

Lucille brought over two steaming mugs of coffee and I accepted mine. She took a sip and then eyed me curiously. "Because…"

I take a long gulp of the soothing liquid and sighed. "Mrs. Bolton, Troy is a very kind, sweet boy but I just don't think I should intrude."

"Gabriella, you are in no way intruding. You're always welcome here. Always." She pressed.

I nodded silently as I looked down at my coffee. "But, you don't understand. As much as I fear Troy hurting me, I'm much more scared of me hurting Troy."

Lucille furrowed her brow and ran her pinkie around the rim of her mug. "Okay, um, how would Troy hurt you, and why would you hurt Troy?"

_It's just a reputation._

Troy's words rang through my mind and I remembered how Troy's parents were completely oblivious to how Troy acted in school. "Well," I struggled to cover up, "what I meant was that college is coming up and I really don't want to get close to someone and then have to leave."

Lucille nodded slowly. "Okay…So, what are you hiding from me?"

"Not just you." I whispered. "From Troy, my parents…my sister. Mrs. Bolton, you have to understand that it's very hard for me to come to terms with what's happening. Can I safely assume that Troy's told you so I don't have to relive it all?"

Lucille touched my hand and took a small sip from her mug. "Yeah. He did."

"Well, it's just hard. I don't want to hurt Troy. And, even with everything going on, he is the last person I want to see hurt. You know how I said that I'd stay until after finals and then I'd be out?" I asked quietly, staring intently at my mug.

"Yeah…What about it?" She asked quietly.

I lifted my head and sighed. "I'm leaving."

"Excuse me?" Lucille asked in shock, taking her hand away from mine.

"Please, don't tell Troy. I beg you. He doesn't need to know." I exclaimed.

"But, what do you mean you're leaving? I mean, what about graduation and finishing your senior year?"

I took a deep breath and gripped the counter edges tightly. "I got accepted for Stanford's freshman honours' programme." I whispered.

* * *

Troy parked his car in the garage, and savagely crushed the keys into his pocket. He hadn't been able to get his mind off of Gabriella for the entire day, and even Jason (who was notoriously oblivious) had noticed.

Troy ruthlessly kicked the front door open and then frowned. He couldn't hear his mom making his favorite quesadilla snack in the kitchen, and Gabriella's red bag was neatly resting on the first step.

Troy skipped a breath, dropped his backpack to the floor and took to the stairs four a time. (That had to be a new record.) When he slammed his bedroom door opened, there she was, sitting on his bed with her hands clasped neatly in front of her.

"Gabriella!" He beamed wildly, forgetting to be mad at her. He sat next to her on his bed and wrapped his arms around you. "I missed you so much, Gabby! Where were you?"

She cracked a tiny smile and then removed his arms from her body. "Troy, it was so sweet of you to take me in last night and I don't think I can repay you. But I can't stay, really."

Troy's elated expression changed into one of shock. "What?"

"I'm sorry, Troy."

Troy blinked, and Gabriella was gone.

* * *

Troy wandered through the park and shook his head to himself as he approached a familiar bench. He stood behind it, facing the lake and then crouched down so that his mouth was parallel to the person's ear. "Do you have any idea how predictable you are?"

Gabriella jumped visibly and twisted around to face Troy's smirk. "Maybe I wanted you to find me, Troy." She mumbled, turning back to the lake.

"Why would you want that? You're avoiding me, remember?"

"I left too soon, there were so many things that I needed to say that I didn't get a chance to say."

Troy walked around the bench and sighed as he sat next to her. "Any reason you left?"

She stared out at the lake and sighed. "Quite a few." She whispered. She turned to face him. "I am grateful, I promise I am. But, I mean…"

Troy put his basketball down on the ground, took her hand and looked at the side of her face. "But, what?"

She turned to him and then averted her gaze to their interlocked hands. "I can't do it." She whispered.

"Can't do what? Gabby, you're scaring me." He whispered, sliding closer to her. "Please, Gabby, tell me what's on your mind."

"Troy, I don't know how to be a friend." She whimpered.

Troy wrapped his arms around her and breathed out in relief when she didn't push him away, but instead rested her head on his chest. "You don't know how to be a friend?" He asked slowly.

She shook her head with a sigh. "I haven't had one for so long and I don't know what to do."

Troy rubbed her arm and he closed his eyes in relaxation. "Gabby…"

"Hmmm…" She muttered.

"Please come back." He whispered. "I don't want you to be somewhere where you're so depressed that you feel that you're not important." He sat them both up and he stroked her cheek. "Because you are. And if you gave your parents half a chance, they'd say the same."

She sighed and looked away. "I thought you said I wasn't just some girl that you'd leave hanging." She whimpered.

"What? I promised you that you're not and never will be. I'm not leaving you." Troy exclaimed.

She lifted her head and glared. "I told you not to bloody mess with my emotions."

Troy ran his hand through his hair. "What on Earth are you talking about?"

She rolled her eyes and folded her arms as she leaned back into the bench. "You know for the freaky genius girl, I'm so stupid."

"Gabby…Please, tell me what I've done. Or not done." Troy rested a hand on her knee. "Please."

Gabriella pushed his hand away and sighed. "I actually believed you cared about me. I should've stuck with my instinct and stayed away from you. You just wanted me to tutor you."

"What?" Troy gasped. "That's the last thing on my mind. I mean, it would be nice to pass and graduate but I'm not friends with you for that. I'm sorry that you're thinking that!"

"Friends? Oh, yeah. Real good friends, aren't we?" She mumbled, looking away again.

* * *

_Friends?_ Is he serious? No wonder he's failing English. Interpretation for him is an impossibility. Is he as stupid as he is arrogant? Oh, my gosh. I'm going to cry. I'm going to cry and be a homeless street girl until I leave for Stanford after finals. What to do… What to do… Should I go back home where it's impossible to hear myself think because of my parents' fights? Or should I go back with Troy and risk hurting the both of us?

I smiled slightly and hesitantly kissed his cheek. "I don't know why you're apologizing. It's not like we're together. But, I can't get close to you and then just leave. Besides, I should get home. I think we should pretend last night never happened."

"Why?" Troy exclaimed indignantly. "You actually expect me to forget about you?"

I shrugged. "It wasn't that difficult before, was it?"

Troy winced visibly at the question. "But, I mean . . .what? I can't forget you. I tried all day to forget you and look where it got me!"

"Where did it get you, Troy? You're in the park again, practising basketball. You probably won't even need those English credits because you'll get a sports scholarship to Duke, and you'll go on to your NBA and-"

I was rambling. "I had sex with Shannon O'Mallory today," He admitted, rubbing the back of his neck.

"See? That's what I mean! You had a great day without me, Troy. I don't even know why I'm trying to convince you because you'll realize it anyway when I leave."

"No, Gabby, that's not a good thing. I was trying so hard to forget you that I had sex with Shannon O'Mallory and it was awful."

"Shannon O'Mallory." I spoke slowly, staring at my hands in my lap.

"What?" Troy whispered.

"I'm sorry if I ever threatened your popularity in any way." I whispered. "You know, I didn't need your charity. I never wanted it from anyone."

"Who said anything about charity? Look, I couldn't skip school to find you. I wanted to but my parents are already on my back about failing English and I couldn't. Shannon was just there and it didn't mean anything." Troy pleaded, holding my hand.

I lifted my heard and slowly shut my eyes. "I told you. It's been so long since I've had a friend that I don't know what I'm doing, really. And I don't want this to be a temporary thing. College is coming and I'm leaving this place behind." I paused slightly. "If we become friends, you're going to be a part of it."

Troy frowned worriedly. "Look, college is coming, I know. But, we're not going to stop being friends because of it. And don't worry about not knowing how to be a friend. I like it and I'm not letting you go. Like I've been saying all along, you're different."

"Different." I whispered. "Yeah. I'm definitely…different." If only he knew. Stanford is in California. A thousand miles away…

"Please come back. I can make you happy." He whispered, kissing my cheek.

To go back with Troy would mean possible hurt for the both of us.

Going back home would mean the possibility of bursting my ear drums.

To go back with Troy would mean leaving him behind.

Going back home would mean hurting him anyway.

I knew where I had to go.


End file.
